


Empty

by sevngsvng



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Eating Disorders, Kim Seungmin-centric, M/M, Multi, avoidant restrictive food intake disorder, i think, i'm not really on my trail to recovery so i didn't write seung on his sorry, it's not happy yet, lots of projection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25872586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevngsvng/pseuds/sevngsvng
Summary: If asked when it started, Seungmin would say he didn’t know. He didn’t, really. How does one tell when a habit becomes a disorder, when a pattern turns destructive, when a change becomes permanent?Please mind the tags and notes
Relationships: Everyone/Everyone, Kim Seungmin/Everyone, OT8 - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 117





	Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I didn't intend this to be my first ao3 fic but I finished it before the other one so...here it is.  
> Please note that I'm not trying to suggest or imply that I think Seungmin has an eating disorder, or that he has this disorder in particular. This started as an exercise for me to work through some of my own disordered thoughts through the lens of someone else and it got a little out of hand.  
> If you see your own experiences in this, please consider seeking help. I'm not a medical professional and thus can't diagnose anyone, but if you do think you might have an eating disorder please please tell someone  
> I hope you enjoy the fic!

If asked when it started, Seungmin would say he didn’t know. He didn’t, really. How does one tell when a habit becomes a disorder, when a pattern turns destructive, when a change becomes permanent? 

He first became consciously aware of it during uni, but looking back… 

A few extra minutes of studying in the morning slowly replaced breakfast sometime during high school. Sure, he was always told breakfast was the most important meal of the day but few of his friends ate breakfast and they were all doing fine. 

He diligently made sure to eat on test days and presentation days, but other than that it didn’t matter, right? He had enough energy. Besides, he kept a granola bar in his backpack as an excuse – both to himself and the others – never mind that the same granola bar had stayed in his backpack all year, untouched. 

For a while sophomore year there was drama in his friend group. Seungmin was sure someone had told him the details at one point but he was already drifting away from that group and he didn’t really remember what happened. 

He did his best to stay out of it, up to and including avoiding the cafeteria where he’d inevitably be pushed to choose sides. He packed lunches for a while, eating them tucked in a corner of a locker bay or in one of the music hall practice rooms. He was joined by a friend or two occasionally, though not frequently enough to establish any kind of pattern. Eventually classes picked up and food was again pushed aside for the sake of studying and efficiency and keeping his parents happy and figuring out what the hell he wanted to do with his life. 

Coming home late from activities meant picking at leftovers, sliding vegetables from plate to napkin, and cutting up meat to look like he’d eaten more than he had. Family dinners were still a regular part of his routine, but they involved more excuses of late snacks and lots of homework than they had previously. Even out with friends, no one shamed him for saving the couple dollars most knew he didn’t have to save, ordering smaller portions than others. 

As with every year, summer break came too late and lasted too long. 

Summer was simple. Seungmin always liked summer, because he could do whatever he wanted. That included eating (or not) any time. 

As long as he emptied the dishwasher, his parents didn’t really care whether he’d added anything of his own to it. 

Even going out with friends it was easy, little white lies of “oh, I already ate” and “nah, I’m not hungry” slipping out easily. 

Sometimes, eating with friends was easy. Conversation and sunshine dulled the sharp edges of the nausea, and light snack foods were always easier to work down anyway. 

University fucked his eating schedule over like nothing else. No one was even trying to keep track; he had free reign. 

He still got dinner with his new friend group every night, but by the time he fully settled into the group around mid-October, he found out Chan had adopted six others. No one shared his major or schedule, so “late lunch” worked like a charm. 

He could again quote saving money when stealing a fry or two from others rather than buying his own meal, and could claim nothing in the dining hall looked good – which really was true – when asked about his light salads. 

Even when the attraction blossomed into a well-negotiated and communication-heavy relationship, Seungmin chose lies of omission over helicopter-boyfriends. 

Junior year, he moved into Chan and Minho’s house downtown with the rest of his boyfriends. He took the train to campus with Felix, Jisung, and Hyunjin every day – Changbin had only online classes and Jeongin was working a co-op semester downtown – but they all spent their time on campus at different classes and with different friends. 

Home was a safe space for him. His boyfriends lived there and even when he thought he didn’t need it, his hyungdeul cared for him. Minho draped blankets over his shoulders, Chan carried him to bed, and Changbin tugged his head down to rest on his shoulder or chest whenever he seemed to be drifting off. Even Hyunjin had taken to stroking softly through his hair whenever he noticed Seungmin starting up a nervous tick. 

The food, though, was another story. It was easy, too easy, to hide it. You’d think in a house of so many there’d be an eye on him at all times, but ‘I’ve already eaten’ wasn’t really a lie and who was going to check? 

Seungmin’s boyfriends trusted him and he spent more time than he wanted to admit to feeling guilty about taking advantage of their trust. He wasn’t sure how he would start to explain it, even if he wanted to. 

It wasn’t anorexia. 

He wasn’t counting calories, wasn’t weighing himself, wasn’t exercising excessively or doing any of the other symptoms they learned about in health. Hell, he barely looked in the mirror these days except to wash his face. 

He did exercise, of course, especially outside of baseball season. 

It wasn’t even really an active choice to starve himself: he just didn’t want to eat. 

It wasn’t bulimia, either. 

He wasn’t throwing up – well, it happened sometimes but just when certain foods disagreed with him and it wasn’t often enough for him to count it – and he wasn’t bingeing or stashing food or anything like that. He just didn’t eat. 

And if it wasn’t anorexia or bulimia, it wasn’t an eating disorder, right? Those were the only ones they’d ever learned about. Those were all he knew the signs and symptoms of. 

He’d been like this for over four years now, he realized. 

Seungmin wasn’t sure he’d know how to go back to eating ‘normally’ even if he tried. 

Out of curiosity, he followed Chan’s menu plan (it was taped to the fridge in a feeble attempt to help him remember) for a day. 

He felt bloated and half-nauseous after breakfast, so he curled up on the couch and watched nature documentaries to distract himself. Jisung joined him after a while, letting Seungmin sprawl on top of him and simply pressing kisses to the top of his head every once in a while. 

Lunch wasn’t any better, ending with Seungmin packing half up as leftovers and still feeling awful. He was really just lucky he hadn’t thrown up. Changbin, the self-proclaimed comfiest boyfriend, was lounging on the couch with his phone out, clearly only half-watching the home improvement show playing on the TV. 

He let out a soft _oof_ as Seungmin flopped onto him, but didn’t complain. Changbin really is comfy, something Seungmin needed right then. 

Warm hands massaged gently at Seungmin’s waist, seemingly knowing exactly what was wrong. He curled closer, making a soft noise of gratitude and pressing a kiss over Changbin’s heart. 

“Doing okay, bubbles?” The nickname, as always, made Seungmin blush. 

“Yeah, just full.” 

Changbin moved eventually, heading to the gym with Chan and Jeongin, but Seungmin couldn’t make himself accompany them. He wasn’t sure if it was fear of vomiting or the mirrors in the gym, but either way he switched to schoolwork for a while. 

Dinner was chicken takeout Jeongin talked Chan into on the way home from the gym. 

“Seungminnie, want another piece?” Hyunjin leaned across the table. He was extending the plate like a peace offering, or maybe like a sacrifice. Seungmin wasn’t always sure how much of a difference there really was. 

“No, I’m good. Thanks though.” Seungmin waved him off with practiced ease. 

“C’mon Minnie,” said Changbin, bumping his shoulder against Seungmin’s. “Gotta put some meat on those bones.” 

Seungmin laughed at the out-of-date phrase and let the conversation swell over them again, high tide pulling the attention toward other corners of the table as he drifted silently back into the depths like a golden jellyfish at dusk. 

It’s too easy. 

He was known for being the most diligent, anyway, so why would anyone even consider the possibility of him purposefully neglecting his own health? It was a ridiculous notion. 

Call it morbid curiosity, call it thirst for knowledge, hell, call it him being sick of not knowing what his body was doing all the time, Seungmin didn’t care. It didn’t matter what prompted it. What mattered was the screen in front of him, the words “Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder” in stark black-on-white Georgia 24pt font displayed at the top of the Wikipedia page. 

Maybe he was scared to go to one of the medical pages. He wasn’t sure what he was scared of. 

Being wrong? 

Being _right?_

Not knowing the next step? 

Being handed all the resources to get him out of this and suddenly being faced with the weight of his choices and the unavoidable knowledge that whatever he did next was on him and him alone?

Okay, yeah, maybe it was that. 

As he looked through the article, it just seemed to click. It felt scarily like how the label “queer” had felt, new and crisp and surprisingly soft against his boxed-around-the-edges personality but at the same time a little like a plug in a socket. There was nervous energy thrumming through him, so he grabbed one of the squishy brain-shaped pieces of foam he’d gotten from the Medical Devices Center on campus and passed it absentmindedly between his hands while he let his thoughts drift. 

Sometimes there were good days. Sometimes, when everyone was home, they’d eat all three meals together and Seungmin would get so caught up in the energy and the sunshine and the smiles that he’d eat without thinking. 

Sometimes when Minho came to sit next to him at the table, grabbing his hand and holding it for the whole meal, Seungmin could focus on the warmth of a palm against his own instead of the weight in his stomach, could tap patterns into Minho’s knuckles instead of thinking about the textures in his mouth. 

Sometimes when Changbin dragged him into the kitchen, promising a new dish they could learn together but really meaning a new story he wanted to talk about, Seungmin found himself snacking absentmindedly, munching on whatever Changbin handed him. On really good days, even stopping to talk didn’t deter him and he could bite right back down without forcing his face blank of the momentary nausea he’d come to expect. 

Sometimes, though, there were bad days. These didn’t come too often, as most of Seungmin’s days fell solidly into the “meh” category food-wise. The bad days, few as they tended to be, hit hard. 

Seungmin had two kinds of bad days: hungry and empty. 

On hungry days, his stomach growled and he ignored it. He pushed the hollow ache to the back of his mind and sipped absentmindedly at water or focused on something else entirely. It was a reminder of the food he didn’t deserve, of the nausea lingering just a few bites away. It was a reminder that if he really cared, he could fix this. It was a reminder that he was choosing to destroy himself. 

Empty days were scarier. On empty days the hunger made itself scarce and he could focus on his work for hours upon hours, barely noticing time passing until he began to shake. He could disappear into his room for as long as possible, even ignoring calls of “dinnertime.” He could pretend it was natural. He could pretend it wasn’t a choice. He could pretend it was good for him. He could pretend. 

It was an empty day. Normally, around 9 his stomach would kick into gear to complain aggressively and he would wander into the kitchen just to realize nothing sounded good and return quietly to his room. 

Today, Seungmin only bothered entering the kitchen at all because he remembered Jeongin made muffins yesterday and figured he should at least try to eat one. It was always easier to eat things when he didn’t have to pick the portion size. 

Time passed. Seungmin stared at the muted video on his phone, only half reading the subtitles. Felix came to sit next to him, grabbing a muffin of his own with barely a glance at Seungmin’s picked-at one. 

“You good, Min?” Maybe it was more than a glance. 

Seungmin took a deep breath, eyes flicking around the kitchen. 

“No.” 

Felix didn’t even startle, just exhaled softly, like a cloud before the first snow. 

“What’s up?” An arm settled gently around Seungmin’s waist. Reassurance. Love. 

Another deep breath. 

“I think I have an eating disorder.” 

Felix paused, then turned to face Seungmin fully. 

“Tell me what you need.”

**Author's Note:**

> twt: @sevngsvng (it's nsfw; minors [under 18] please don't interact)  
> cc: @sevngsvng


End file.
